


scars between us

by VerdantMoth



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aging, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantMoth/pseuds/VerdantMoth
Summary: Loki begins trying to pace in their small bathroom, fingers tugging at his hair like he’s trying to pull it out. He leans over the sink until his nose practically kisses the mirror, stretching the skin around his eyes and his mouth.  “Wrinkles and grey hairs and,” he pats his stomach, before rounding on Thor. “What is this.”





	scars between us

Thor wakes up and the moon is still peaking through the curtains, highlighting the empty sheets beside him. He frowns, fingers ghosting over the sheets and noticing the warmth they still hold. It used to be unlike his brother to leave their bed this early. He slinks out of the warm bed, shivering in the cool air and picks his pants up from the floor. 

He can’t hear Loki, but he can see the light from under the bathroom door, so he raps his knuckles on the heavy oak door. Nothing. Thor frowns harder. He knocks again, and when there’s still no response he tries to open the door. It’s locked.

Thor throws his shoulder against it, knocks hard. “Loki!” 

Finally the door creaks open slowly. Loki doesn’t look at him though, as Thor barges in. “What is the meaning of this?” 

Loki is staring at his reflection, blue-green eyes intense and mouth a thin line. “Thor, have you noticed…” He trails off, fingers running through the hair at his temples. His mouth turns down and he turns away. “It’s grey.” He says petulantly. 

Thor stares at him, blinks twice, and ask, “What is?” 

Loki throws his hands up. “My hair!” He points a sharp finger at his temples and Thor has to lean in, but  _ ah, yes _ . There are indeed a few greying strands cuving over his brother’s ear. 

“My beard is streaked with grey and my hair is mostly silver.” He says. Loki turns on him and Thor can see the anger on his face, but the worry in his eyes. 

“You’re old, Thor. You’re meant to be silver.”

Loki begins trying to pace in their small bathroom, fingers tugging at his hair like he’s trying to pull it out. He leans over the sink until his nose practically kisses the mirror, stretching the skin around his eyes and his mouth.  “Wrinkles and grey hairs and,” he pats his stomach, before rounding on Thor. “What is this.” 

Thor can feel his lips twitching in amusement but he can also sense the seriousness in Loki. “It’s called aging, brother. We all do it.” 

“Not me!” Loki cries out. And oh, there it is, the issues that has haunted Loki for weeks now. “Not me,” Loki whispers and he crumples to the floor, arms around his knees. 

The space is tight, but Thor folds himself down so that his knees are on either side of Loki’s and he can place his hands over them. “What do you mean?” 

Loki won’t look at him, but he places one hand over Thor’s nails tracing the crisscrossing scars across his knuckles. He takes Thor’s hand and pulls it, trails his brother’s fingers over his shoulder and down his arm. There are ridges and knicks and deep valleys. Scars that aren’t immediately obvious to the eye, but prominent to the hands. Some of them Thor knows. 

Loki lets go of his hand, but Thor traces across his chest, feeling dips and divots, some of which  _ he _ caused. His palm skims over a particularly bumpy pattern on Loki’s hip and he frowns, unsure of where it originally came from. It’s so big though, so ugly, and Thor knows what it taste like, how it feels covered in sweat and come, but he’s never asked about it and Loki rarely acknowledges it.

“How did you survive this?” Thor asks.

Loki waves a dismissive hand, “Tony and his science,” he pushes Thor’s hand away from his stomach though and tries to make himself small. Thor makes it a point to place his palm in the center of Loki’s belly, fingers twitching against it. 

He can remember a time when Loki was nothing but sharp edges and lean muscles. When every bone cut against his palm and there was no cushion. But the years have been nice to them, lately, and now his belly is gently rounded and covered in fine hairs. He skids his hands through the dark curls and up over Loki’s pecs. “Why are you so bothered by your aging?” 

“Because,” Loki says, but he doesn’t continue. He wraps his arms around him though, and Thor suddenly thinks he gets it. He fits his hand under Loki’s chin and forces his head up, one thumb tracing the fine lines at the corner of his eyes.

“You survived, Loki,” and his voice feels loud in this room, but it doesn’t stop him. “These marks on your skin, the lines in your face? Those are all signs that you have lived and suffered. But this?” He scrapes a nail over the grey, and over laugh lines. “Trophies. Because despite it all, despite every stunt you pulled and every mistake you made, you survived and you got better and you  _ lived _ .”

Thor is purposeful when he fits his fingers around Loki’s neck, when he holds the strange necklace of broke flesh in his hands and massages it with his nails. He remembers the time when he thought he’d never see this; when he thought his last image of his brother was going to be the purples skin and bloodshot eyes and crooked neck. 

Loki’s hands are on his cheeks and his thumbs swipe under Thor’s eyes and they come away wet. “You survived, brother. How can you be upset? How can you not appreciate this?” 

“I never thought I would, Thor. I always knew I would die young.” Loki answers. He’s shaking, just a bit, but his voice is strong. “I never believed I could have this, could deserve this. I just thought-” he breaks off, smoothing his hands over Thor’s shoulders and brushing black silver strands of hair. “I am afraid of waking up and realizing this is all some dream. Some sort of cruel afterlife teasing me.” 

Thor stands and pulls Loki up with him. A little bit because sitting in that position on the tiled floor was making his joints ache, but mostly so he can pull Loki into his arms and bury his face in his still-dark but greying hair. He holds him tight, even as Loki squirms in his embrace, and he stands there until Loki stills. Until skinny arms are wrapping around his own waist and he can feel Loki’s face pressed into his chest. When he finally feels Loki begin to tremble against him, when he knows his brother will hear him he says, “You are here, Loki. And you are breathing. And you are real.” 

If the others were here, the would have better words, stronger answers. But this is what Thor has; skin to skin and his voice in Loki’s ear. He kisses the greying hair and whispers, “You are here, and you are aging, and you are beautiful.” 

They stay like that for a long time, before Loki’s eyes go dark and he pulls Thor back to their bed.


End file.
